


twice the sugar

by jamesiee



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 'sawesome santa 2017, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee/pseuds/jamesiee
Summary: Jack isn’t sure what time it is when he wakes up overly warm and with blond hair in his mouth, and doesn’t quite care enough to grab his phone to check. He stretches his legs out, cracking his toes, and twists away from where he’d been spooning Bitty to work out the kink in his back. Bitty makes a grunt of protest, loud enough that Jack knows he’s close to waking up, so Jack doesn’t feel too bad when he takes back his arm that’d been under Bitty in an attempt to get some of the feeling back.A morning spent together with more sugar and butter than either expected. Surprisingly, it's Jack's fault.





	twice the sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justaphage (DancingDragon42)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingDragon42/gifts).



> For @[justaphage/DancingDragon42](https://justaphage.tumblr.com/), who wanted a happy ending and gave so many lovely prompts/ideas to jump off of. 
> 
> i too agree that there will never be enough of bitty and jack cooking together, and then i fell down a youtube hole into [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eowaHzGVTgk) and well... the accent makes fleury's answer that much better. 
> 
> beta'd by the lovely @[measureless](http://measurelessgarden.tumblr.com/), but any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> happy holidays!!! :)

"If there's a sexier sound on this planet than the person you're in love with cooing over the crêpes you made for him, I don't know what it is." —[Julie Power](http://www.azquotes.com/quote/664455?ref=crepes)

* * *

 

Jack isn’t sure what time it is when he wakes up overly warm and with blond hair in his mouth, and doesn’t quite care enough to grab his phone to check. He stretches his legs out, cracking his toes, and twists away from where he’d been spooning Bitty to work out the kink in his back. Bitty makes a grunt of protest, loud enough that Jack knows he’s close to waking up, so Jack doesn’t feel too bad when he takes back his arm that’d been under Bitty in an attempt to get some of the feeling back.

“Morning,” Jack whispers, loath to completely break the quiet of the morning. He’s never been a morning person, hates to be awake before the sun rises, but he’s had early morning practices since he first became part of team and an internal clock that still gets excited by being the first one at the rink.

Bitty evidently has no such qualms about quiet mornings; he responds to Jack with an overdramatic groan-snuffle combo. Jack bites back a grin and goes willingly when Bitty rolls them both over to bury his face in Jack’s neck as the big spoon. Bitty’s measured breaths tickle the back of Jack’s neck, and because it’s an off-day for both of them, it doesn’t take long for Jack’s breathing to match up to Bitty’s.

Jack isn’t sure if he actually falls asleep again, or if he just dozes, but he blinks open his eyes when Bitty shifts against his back, more definitive in his movements than before. The angle of the light streaming in from the window has changed, casting the bedroom in a rosy glow. Jack stretches his legs out again, and gets kicked when he accidentally wafts cold air in under the covers. He rolls so he and Bitty are lying face to face and clamps Bitty’s cold toes between his calves.

“Morning sweetpea,” Bitty says. He shuffles forward to press a warm kiss under Jack’s eye, wrinkling his nose when he interrupts Jack mid-yawn and gets a faceful of stale morning breath.

“Morning,” Jack repeats, after he’s cracked his jaw. “Sleep well?”

“Always do here,” Bitty replies. His eyes are still tired, fighting through the leftover fog of sleep, but his languid grin is Jack’s favourite, so Jack leans forward to press his lips to Bitty’s. It doesn’t get much deeper than a dry brush of their lips—they both really do need to brush their teeth—but it’s still the best part of waking up in the same bed as Bitty.

“Yuck,” Jack says when he pulls back.

“Right back at you, Mister,” Bitty says. He steals what he can of the blankets off Jack, tucking them around himself with a pleased grin. Jack thinks about doing something to take them back but his stomach grumbles before he can make a move.

“Breakfast?” Jack asks, rolling out of bed and going to the ensuite bathroom. He loses Bitty’s reply to the flush of the toilet, so after washing his hands and wetting his toothbrush for toothpaste, he leans against the doorway to talk to Bitty.

“What?” he asks around his toothbrush. Bitty groans through a full body stretch, his toes peeking out from the bottom of the blanket burrito before disappearing back inside. Jack is oddly charmed by that.

“I’m in the mood for crêpes,” Bitty answers, sitting up so the blankets pool around him.

He’s blinking innocently at Jack, but there’s something in the set of his eyebrows that makes Jack suspicious. Jack slows his brushing and squints at Bitty while he thinks, wondering if part of Bitty’s kitchen magic is realizing that Jack has a craving before Jack does. An off day means that Jack can, and will, cover his crêpes with butter and sprinkled sugar, like his grandmère would make, and not feel guilty when the layer of sugar becomes twice as thick as the thin crêpes. But that doesn’t explain the way Bitty is looking at Jack, biting his lip to hide a smile.

Jack goes back to the sink to spit. They’ve never made crêpes together but he thinks that Bitty’s probably more partial to whipped cream on his crêpes, at least based on his affinity for the stuff on pancakes and hot drinks. They don’t have any in the kitchen right now, so maybe Jack’s going to get sent to the grocery store before breakfast? It wouldn’t be the first time; half of the reason Jack keeps energy bars in his car now is for when he runs out to pick up a forgotten ingredient before a meal. Bitty’s expression promises more than an emergency grocery run though and—oh.

Jack turns to go back out to the bedroom and jumps when he sees Bitty in the doorway.

“You saw the video?” Jack asks.

“I saw the video,” Bitty confirms, grin widening.

It’d been part of the promotional stuff Jack did during press week before the season started; one of a series of rapid fire questions he was asked about his favorite T.V. shows and movies, and hobbies outside of hockey. Nothing had been done with the footage right away, lulling Jack into a false sense of security that he wouldn’t have to deal with the chirps that would most definitely come when people saw that his answer to the question “what’s the best dish you can cook?” was the most stereotypical answer he could give— short of _poutine_.

He knows a compilation video of all the answers to the question had recently come out—Tater asked about pregame crêpes in the groupchat yesterday and Marty sent a link to a crêperie that makes “crêpes that would put anything Zimmermann makes to shame”—but Bitty hadn’t said anything about it when Jack got home. The Samwell group chat had been quiet on that front too so Jack figured that maybe his part in the video got buried by the other answers of chicken and pasta or overshadowed by Snowy’s sage butter gnocchi.

Apparently not.

Bitty bursts into laughter at whatever face Jack makes. “Crêpes, really?” he asks. “I mean, no one's gonna forget you’re French anytime soon Monsieur Zimmermann.”

Jack doesn’t comment on his pronunciation, knowing that he wouldn’t escape unscathed if he started Bitty down that path. “You weren’t complaining about my French last night,” Jack says instead, sticking his toothbrush back in his mouth.

“Yes, thank you for helping me translate those recipes hun, google translate couldn’t’ve done any better.” Bitty rolls his eyes and hip checks Jack out of the way to grab his own toothbrush. Jack spits one last time, running the water to wash it all down the drain, before leaving Bitty to finish his bathroom routine.

He has butter melting in the microwave, eggs, flour, milk, and a big measuring cup on the counter and is in the process of trying to locate a pan when Bitty joins him in the kitchen..

“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me,” Bitty says. He hops up onto one of the bar stools and straightens the stick of butter from where Jack haphazardly threw it. “I have to hear about your best dish from the NHL network of all places.” He tuts, winking when Jack looks up.

“They didn’t make fun of me,” Jack replies, ducking down to check the drawer under the stove for the good pan.

“Check over the stove,” Bitty says when Jack straightens, knees cracking loud enough that he knows he’ll have to spend some time later stretching everything out. Jack did check over the stove earlier, but knows by now that Bitty has a special sense for where things are in his kitchen so he opens the cupboard again. Bitty’s eyes sparkle with a smile when Jack gets up on his tiptoes again and finds the right pan on top of the shitty one he ignored earlier. He’ll never understand why Bitty puts pans where he can’t reach them. Jack sets the pan on the stove and starts to dump the wet ingredients into the mixing cup.

“Was there a chicken quota or something?” Bitty asks.

Jack looks up from the bag of flour. “What?”

“I mean, everyone else was saying chicken or pasta, so did they tell you you couldn’t?”

“Ha-ha.” Jack deadpans, flicking flour at Bitty. He chuckles when Bitty blows out a big breath, successfully keeping the flour out of his face but getting it everywhere else instead. They both watch it settle on the counter.

“Not it,” Bitty says.

“I’m cooking,” Jack says, dumping the flour into the bowl.  Bitty snorts; they both know that Jack’ll take care of the dishes while Bitty wipes down the kitchen and then they'll put everything away together, but takes the damp paper towel Jack hands him to wipe at the flour.

Jack mixes everything together, including the last minute addition of melted butter he almost forgot about, and turns on the burner to let the pan heat for a minute. Bitty looks up from his phone when it sizzles, melting on the heat. He raises his eyebrows, meaningfully looking at the cooking spray Jack usually uses when he cooks.

“It makes it taste better,” Jack mumbles, lifting the pan and swirling it so the butter coats the entire surface. Bitty hums, but doesn’t say anything, going back to his phone with a self-satisfied smirk. He continues to narrate Tater’s latest tweet and Jack starts the cooking process.

He ruins the first crêpe. He put too much batter in the pan, and isn’t able to get a good flip so it folds in on itself before he can smooth it out.

“For nhl.com,” Jack says, scraping it onto a plate to be dealt with later. Bitty laughs loudly and Jack rebutters the pan.

The second crêpe goes much better. It’s a perfect pour, and Jack swirls the pan just right so the batter spreads evenly. He and Bitty both watch the bubbles in the center and the edges crisp up until Jack loosens the edges with a spatula to flip it with his fingertips, only burning them a little. He sticks his fingers tips in his mouth, unwilling to go run them under water and risk burning the crêpe. He almost burns it anyways when he gets slightly distracted by Bitty leans forward on the island to watch him, but remembers just in time to get the it off the pan. It goes onto the other plate, perfectly golden brown.

Bitty wears his impressed eyebrows when he looks at Jack. Jack’s stomach swoops pleasantly as he gets a butter knife to spread a layer of butter on the warm crêpe, enjoying how the butter melts as it touches the crêpe. He reaches for the sugar bowl next, sprinkling a thin layer first, and when that starts to go translucent from the heat of the crêpe, melting into the butter, he sprinkles another layer. Jack slides the plate over to Bitty, who looks absolutely delighted at the amount of sugar on the plate.

“It’s how my grandmère made them,” Jack says. Bitty gives him a look he can’t quite read, fond and soft around the eyes. Jack smiles back—he can’t not smile when Bitty looks like that—and watches Bitty expertly roll the crêpe up.

Jack waits before he pours more batter into the pan, keeping an eye on Bitty to see his reaction. He feels his face heat when Bitty makes a noise not unlike he’s heard in their bedroom, but it’s somehow even sexier to hear Bitty reacting like that to Jack’s cooking.

“Oh, this is really good Jack,” Bitty says, closing his eyes as he chews through another bite. “Well, worth the wait.”

Jack leans across the island and for a kiss, grinning into the pleased sound that Bitty makes. There’s sugar on Bitty’s lips, though that’s not the only reason it’s so sweet, and while he’s kissing Bitty as thoroughly as possible with the island between them, he rips off a piece of crêpe. Bitty nips at his bottom lip. He's probably figured out what Jack is doing but doesn't stop him so Jack pulls back and pops the stolen bite in his mouth.

“Perfect,” he nods. Bitty rolls his eyes at the double meaning, and huffs a laugh as Jack ducks in for another kiss before going back to the stove to finish the crêpes.

They’re perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> whaddup, im on [tumblr](http://pongpalace.tumblr.com/post/168776766818/twice-the-sugar-ao3-a-swawesomesanta) :)


End file.
